


Their Reflected Light

by Cherry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Memories, Mourning, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry/pseuds/Cherry
Summary: Levi mourns Erwin.





	Their Reflected Light

It takes more than a year, but eventually the commemorative statue is completed and placed on its engraved plinth overlooking the training grounds at Military Command HQ. Levi goes to see it on the morning before the unveiling ceremony, arriving just after dawn, before the gates are officially open, in the hope that he’ll be alone. The guards allow him through, of course. He can feel the way their eyes follow him, but he’s used to that, and to the weight of suppressed hostility that always accompanies the stares these days.

He knows what they’re thinking: how can _he_ show his face here, of all places, on this, of all days, when he’s the one who lost them the commander? Never mind that these soldiers are MPs who would have sneered at the entire corps and its leader, before.

The disapproval is easy to ignore from people like these – so-called soldiers who never saw a titan or set foot beyond the wall. It’s harder when it comes from the families of those who died at Shiganshina. It’s hardest of all when he sees it in the eyes of the people who were there: Armin, still incredulous; Jean, Connie, Sasha, all of them confused and doubting; Flocke, openly resentful at being robbed of his justification for having survived. Hange… Hange’s sense of justice usually prevails: _Erwin gave you the choice – there’s nothing more to be said_.

So much _not_ to be said, though, in the new, puzzled distance he sometimes detects in that one, inquiring eye.

Eren and Mikasa are the only ones who don’t condemn him in the same way, and he knows that their reasons are too like his own to bring any of them any comfort. They are united, at least, by the knowledge that all three of them would make the same choices again.

Levi crosses the empty parade ground, the tap of his boots on the flagstones rebounding from the surrounding buildings, his shadow stretching before him in the long light of early morning. The statue isn’t yet covered; Levi’s sure that the organizing committee will only drape the flag over it moments before they open the gate, to keep the Wings of Freedom free from dust or the effects of a sudden spring shower.

Although he’s not expecting much, his heart still contracts as he approaches the plinth and looks up. The form is correct: the upright bearing, the left-handed salute, the slope of the brow, the jut of the nose, the firmness of the jaw. It’s not a bad attempt, all in all, but Levi breaths out, relieved and disappointed at the same time, because the eyes are blank and the expression fixed, and for all its superficial resemblance to the Survey Corps’ thirteenth commander there’s nothing real of Erwin in it at all. Now he’s seen it, Levi knows he’ll be able to face the afternoon’s ceremony without betraying any emotion.

But he’s disappointed, too, because some part of him was hoping… The mind is bad at holding on to images Levi has found. He dreams of Erwin, and in those dreams every detail seems just as it was, but when he’s awake Levi struggles to remember. He thinks of the photograph Grisha Yeager left in the basement and the explanation written below it: ‘this is an imprint of the subjects’ reflected light on a special kind of paper’. Grisha had called the image a _photograph_ ; Levi understands it to be a faithful copy of reality, an instant of captured time. He wishes he could see Erwin’s face again.

If things had been different, Erwin would have wanted to see that one piece of tangible proof of another world beyond the walls. It seems that no one can understand why he wasn’t given that chance. It’s not surprising really, considering how desperately Levi himself had wanted to bring Erwin back until the last moment, and how, when it came to writing his report, he had been unable to find the words to explain his own actions, providing instead only a stark outline of the facts: _I positioned Armin Arlert and the neutralized body of Bertold Hoover on a nearby roof, and injected Armin Arlert with the serum_.

But he’d been unable to add any account of his reasoning, if it had been reasoning, even though he’d known perfectly well that they would ask him why he’d acted in the way he had.

Why? _Because Erwin had already given enough. Because death was kinder than bringing him back into this hell when he’d finally broken free of the dream that inspired and poisoned him for most of his life. Because I – Because I felt – feel –_

Not acceptable language for a military report. Not acceptable sentiments.

He looks up at the statue again – the noble brow, the blank eyes fixed on some unknowable horizon, inhuman in its marble perfection. The Commander Erwin they believed in. The Commander Erwin they want back.

Levi turns away from the statue and leaves the parade ground, aware of the Military Police guards’ eyes on him as he passes, asking their silent question. Their commander hadn’t been so reticent, demanding to see him soon after the report had been circulated among the military divisions.

Nile had studied at him with a faintly repulsed air, as though he were some kind of monstrous exhibit in Sina’s zoo. Levi had held his gaze and waited.

“He trusted you.”

“Yes.”

“Your report didn’t explain your actions.”

“No.”

“Explain them to me.”

“I thought – it was time to let him rest. We wanted him to become a monster – a demon, one of the recruits said. Said that we needed him to be the devil – something like that. I can’t remember the actual words.”

Nile had shaken his head. “I don’t get it. If anyone would have been able to take on that role, Erwin –”

“He’d done enough.”

“And what gave you the right – the _arrogance_ \- to make that decision for him – for all of us?”

Levi had only hesitated for a moment. “Erwin did. He left the choice to me. I made that choice, just as I made the choice to lead the recruits to their deaths as a diversion.”

“But that was _Erwin’s_ plan!”

“Yes. And I made the choice to execute it, as I stated in the report. If you’re looking to blame someone for Erwin’s death, I’m fine with you blaming me.”

Nile had scowled at him. “I _do_ blame you – for putting all of us at risk. Everyone thinks you made the wrong choice.”

“I know.”

“You’re not even sorry are you?”

“No. I’d make the same choice again.”

Nile had sneered then. “And you’d condemn the rest of us again, no doubt! …I called my son Erwin, you know.”

“I – hadn’t heard that.”

“Yes – he was born while you were in Shiganshina. Perhaps even at the very moment… I came to realize that Erwin was a much better man than I’d sometimes given him credit for in the past, and I felt bad about not believing in his theories. And then you came back, and we found out that because of you, all of us – everyone in the walls - my wife and my children – seem to be facing a future of conflict with the rest of the world without the one man who might have been able to save us!”

“Armin and Hange will do their best. And so will I.”

“You’ve done enough! Erwin should never have trusted you. He told me, when he first took you out of the underground, that you wanted nothing more than to kill him. You must be glad you finally succeeded.”

Levi had taken one step towards Nile, seen the fear flash into his eyes, and restrained himself. As he’d left, Nile had called after him, “He should never have trusted you! You really are one hell of a cold bastard!”

_Cold_ , Levi thinks, as he makes his way back to the barracks. _Kenny used to say that, too. Maybe it’s true?_

Certainly he’s tended to find the world a cold place. He remembers moments of thawing between long winters. He remembers Erwin’s smile – the warmth in his eyes on the rare occasions when he was truly relaxed. He remembers the times Erwin laughed – the hot, pleased swell in his own chest at having given his commander pleasure, however briefly. But Erwin is a statue now – hard, cold, blank-eyed, unsmiling.

Levi envies others who knew Erwin their separate memories. Nile must have known him as a young man, passionate with the desire to communicate his father’s theories. Hange must remember him before he became a squad leader, must have watched him grow into each promotion, surpassing and replacing Shardis, whose own memories are surely complicated, coloured by envy as much as admiration.

Levi would like to talk to Hange about Erwin, but he’s not sure Hange would think he has that right, so he’s surprised, and moved, when the Fourteenth Commander asks, an hour before the ceremony, “This won’t be easy, I know… Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Levi replies, nodding a little too vehemently. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve already seen it, so…”

“You’ve seen the statue? Is it like him?”

Levi hesitates. “It’s – I suppose it’s how he’d want them to remember him.”

Hange’s eye scans Levi’s face, and he braces himself for more questions, but none come. “I’m glad Moblit’s drawings did him justice. All right then. Let’s go.”

Levi struggles to hide his feelings at that revelation. “They used Moblit’s drawings to make the statue?”

“Yes. They had to find a likeness somewhere. The sculptor never saw Erwin.”

Levi takes a breath before asking, “Do you still… You have those drawings?”

Hange’s eye widens, and Levi scowls at the floor.

“No – all Moblit’s possessions were returned to his sister – his only family. I assume the committee contacted her when they decided to commission the statue. That’s where I directed them when they came asking.” Hange regards Levi silently for a moment, before adding, “She lives in Trost, I seem to remember, not far from the Rose Inn. Mathild Berner. Moblit once told me that their parents used to call them Matty and Mo. Ha – listen to me babbling on! We should get going.”

“Yeah.” Levi looks Hange in the eye. “Thanks.”

Hange nods, and heads for the door. Levi follows.

The ceremony is the epitome of admirable military precision. Even the weather cooperates, spring sunshine glinting on shining gear and buckles. Uniforms are pressed, boots polished, salutes are exemplary: shoulders back, heads up, fists hitting chests in perfect unison. Levi can’t remember ever seeing so many Survey Corps flags, the Wings of Freedom rippling gently in the soft breeze. The bright sunlight strikes the statue’s head as Zackley unveils it, what ought to be gold gleaming bone white. Something swells painfully in Levi’s throat. He swallows it down.

 

The sunny weather lasts two more days, and then the sky turns grey and the temperature drops to not much above freezing. Levi makes the journey to Trost on horseback in an army-issue winter greatcoat and fur-lined gloves. Riding south, he tries not to think too hard about the last time he travelled in this direction, heading for the ocean. He tries not to think about the time before that.

It starts to rain, a chilling wind blowing directly into his face, and after a while the rain turns icy. By the time he sees Wall Rose on the horizon, Levi is too cold to sense the sting of sleet against his skin.

He stops at the Rose Inn, sees his horse properly stabled, and dries off, drinking tea in an easy chair by the fire. As the warmth returns, his skin prickles painfully, and he asks himself whether it might not be better to remain numb? But as soon as he’s dry, he gets to his feet and starts to make his enquiries. A few people recognize him, some residual good will for him here, in the town he helped to save, but he brushes off their questions with cool politeness: he’s sorry, he’s busy, another time.

Mathild Berner looks enough like her older brother to give Levi a little jolt. She gazes at him, unsmiling, her hand still on the doorknob.

“How can I help you, Captain?”

“Your brother’s drawings. I came to ask whether – If you’d let me see them.”

Mathild’s quiet, intense scrutiny reminds him of Hange. At last, she steps back and opens the door wider. “Come in.”

The room is small – kitchen and living space in one - and very tidy. Mathild shows Levi to a chair at a highly polished round table, and sets the kettle on the range. Levi looks around the room and his eyes settle on a framed picture on the wall opposite the range. He recognizes Moblit immediately – a younger, less worried-looking Moblit than he remembers, smiling, in his Survey Corps uniform.

Mathild turns, notices the direction of Levi’s gaze. “It’s the only really good one I have of him,” she says. “I had to persuade him to draw it – he wasn’t one for self-portraits.”

She goes over to a blue-painted dresser and carefully measures two teaspoons of black tea into a teapot.

“It’s like him,” Levi says. “He was very talented.”

“Yes.” Mathild sets the cups and saucers on the table and takes the teapot to the range to fill it. “He drew all the time when he was younger. And when he went to train to be a soldier, he would send us letters covered in drawings – his friends, the training camp, their officers – he drew everything.”

“Hange – the new commander – told me that they used Moblit’s drawings for Er – for Commander Erwin’s statue,” Levi says.

Mathild smiles for the first time, but it’s not a happy smile. “Yes. Is it a good likeness?”

“It’s…” Levi looks up, not so absorbed by his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear the bitterness in her tone – “They didn’t invite you to the ceremony?”

“No. They haven’t returned the drawings they used either.”

“I see.” Levi pushes aside his disappointment at that news and focuses on Moblit’s sister. “I’ll have them returned to you. And if you’d like to visit Sina and see the statue –”

Mathild waves her hand. “No, thank you. But I would like the drawings back. I don’t like the idea of them sitting in a dusty drawer somewhere where no one – They belong with the others. His drawings will be something to pass down if I ever have children. Something to show them – something that their uncle -” Her voice catches a little, but she frowns and busies herself pouring tea.

Although he’s sure Hange will have written, Levi wants to tell Mathild again about Moblit’s bravery – the way he saved Hange using the momentum that could possibly have propelled him to safety to make sure that his squad leader was clear of the blast – that it’s entirely thanks to Moblit Hange is alive. But Mathild’s composure is precarious – a fragile glaze - and Levi knows what it’s like to have to fight for that kind of calm. He takes a sip of tea, instead, and says, “Thanks. I needed that. It’s cold out.”

“You’re welcome.” Mathild’s smile is warmer this time. They drink tea in silence for a while, until Mathild says suddenly, “I know Mo - Moblit admired you, Captain. And his Squad Leader, too. A lot of the drawings are of Squad Leader Hange Zoe. I’ll fetch them for you.”

Before Levi can say anything, she gets up and goes into another room, returning a few minutes later with her arms full of sketchbooks bound in brown card. She puts them down on the table, well clear of the tea things. Then she reaches for the top one and opens it, her expression softening immediately. “I haven’t wanted to look at them much, since…” she says. “These top ones are mostly from before he went into the army. Family portraits. Our parents. Lots of me – you won’t want to see those…” She turns pages, the contents out of Levi’s field of view. “Oh – this one’s of Dusty…” Mathild holds up the book briefly, open at a picture of a large, long-haired dog. “Mo loved Dusty so much, especially after Ma…” Levi watches her leafing through the pages – the way her expression shifts and changes like the light on a day where the wind chases clouds across the sun - brightness and shadow, happy memories and nostalgic sorrow. When she finally looks up at him, it takes her a moment to be fully present.

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “How rude of me! But I’d forgotten so many of these. That day we went to Fred’s picnic party, and the house in Ermich… Even mum’s old tea service! Mo drew anything that happened to be in front of him. I’d forgotten how much…”

Levi finishes his tea. Mathild looks through the books on the table, opening the front covers and sorting them into two piles before pushing one set towards Levi. “Here. These ones are from his time in the army. You’ll probably recognize a lot of the faces.”

Mathild takes her own pile, sits opposite Levi and immediately starts looking through her brother’s drawings. Levi appreciates her tact.

The first book Levi opens seems to be from Moblit’s initial training days – a lot of very young-looking recruits who either went into the Garrison or the Military Police, or who must have been dead before Levi joined the Survey Corps. Even then, Moblit could draw with remarkable skill, Levi thinks. Although there are no faces he knows, the characters of the individual recruits are instantly before him: a dark-haired boy with a determined expression who must have made quite a leader; a serious girl with something of Mikasa’s upright bearing; a grinning boy with a touch of Connie’s energy. He leaves them behind and turns pages quickly, looking for faces he knows, noting, in passing, the quality of the drawings, the way things are instantly familiar - the rough wood of the bunk frames in the barracks, the enamelled tin cups in the mess hall, the texture of the leather uniform jackets.

And suddenly, toward the end of the book, there’s Hange. It’s a sketch of Hange laughing, looking to one side, eyes shining brightly behind the familiar glasses. The hairstyle is the same messy ponytail, but the face looks so much younger – years younger than could possibly be the case. It’s a Hange who has yet to see a real titan - who has never lost a friend in an expedition beyond the walls.

Levi turns the page and finds Hange again, drawn from the side, leaning on a desk covered in papers. He closes the book, and moves on to the next.

It’s a shock when he finds the first sketch of himself. He has no recollection of Moblit drawing him, but he remembers the day – coming back from training shortly after his reluctant entry into the corps. In the picture Levi’s expression is fierce, his eyes on the ground. Behind him, the squad leader who had been so unhappy about Erwin’s decision to put him in charge of three ‘underground thugs’ regards him with such an obvious look of exasperation that Levi almost laughs aloud. Moblit has caught Flagon exactly as he was, before…

Before that expedition. The next page hurts. It’s a punch to the gut to see Farlan, leaning back against the trunk of a fallen tree, sitting on the ground next to a wide-eyed Isabel who is gesticulating as she explains something, the swift, sweeping lines Moblit has used to describe her perfectly expressing her excited energy.

Levi hesitates to turn more pages. He looks up at Mathild, who is clearly lost in her own memories.

Levi clears his throat, and Mathild raises her head.

“When – When they came for pictures of Erwin – of the commander – did they take them all?”

“I’m not sure. I gave them the books, and they took several pages. They wanted different angles. I think there might be some here though…”

Mathild takes a sketchbook from the bottom of the pile, and flicks through it. Levi steels himself.

“Ah – yes – here. They’re small, so I suppose…” She holds out the book, open at a double page. Levi takes it.

The pictures are relatively recent, drawn, Levi realizes, at the old Survey Corps headquarters where they’d taken Eren when they’d first secured his release from the MPs. The first picture is a quick sketch of Erwin crossing the castle courtyard. His face is indistinct, but the lines of his body, the way he holds himself, the length of his stride, are all so familiar that Levi aches. It’s Erwin in a way that the statue at HQ isn’t – Erwin alive, active, determined, but also human, just a soldier going about his ordinary business.

The second image is clearer, showing Erwin’s face, turned to one side, looking at something that hasn’t been drawn. Levi reaches out instinctively; has to stop himself from tracing the line of Erwin’s jaw. He can’t risk smudging the pencil lines, but –

He takes a breath that catches in spite of his fight for control. He closes his eyes and makes sure of his composure before he looks at the last picture.

It’s Erwin smiling. Levi has no idea what he’s smiling at, but it’s Erwin as Levi remembers him – the mix of maturity and boyishness, open enthusiasm and hidden suffering, complexity and simplicity – the Erwin Levi only gradually came to know. He’s as handsome as Levi remembers, too, and his eyebrows are as ridiculous as they always were. It occurs to Levi that they must have made them less obvious on the statue. The picture merges, in Levi’s mind, with the image he has tried so hard to hold on to – the way Erwin had looked at him in Shiganshina at the very end.

_I will make the decision…_

_Thank you, Levi._

Levi is frozen in place, unable to look away from Moblit’s sketch – from Erwin. It’s been so long that he almost doesn’t recognize the painful ache behind his eyes for what it is until the tears come. He blinks them away before they can fall, and forces himself to close the book. When he’s certain he has full control of himself he looks up at Mathild, and sees that she’s watching him.

“Thank you,” Levi says, his voice only a little gruff. “I – Thank you.”

Mathild nods. “You’re welcome, Captain.”

“I should… I’ll get going now. Thank you for the tea.”

Mathild hesitates only for a moment, then she gathers up all the sketch books on Levi’s side of the table, and thrusts them into his arms. “Take them. I have plenty. These… I can see what they mean to you. There must be other people… Do what you like with them. And the ones they still have – the other ones of the commander - I don’t need them back. Give them all away to people who remember.”

When Levi looks the necessary question at her, Mathild nods firmly. “Take them. It’s what Mo would have wanted.”

 

Back at HQ, Levi finds a picture Moblit must have drawn on a rare night out with Hange’s old squad. Four of them are seated around a table, Abel laughing at some joke of Nifa’s, Hange half way through a pint of beer, Keiji smiling his serious, slight smile. Hange keeps that one, and one of Mike, and tells Levi, “I’ll send the others to the relatives. And I’ll deliver as many as I can myself. The next-of-kin’s addresses are still on file.”

Levi nods. “I’m sorry there aren’t any of Moblit.”

Hange smiles, only a little sadly. “Moblit’s in all of them, though.”

When they finally track them down, in a drawer in a dusty office at Military Command, Hange also takes one of the sketches of Erwin that were used for the statue. Levi chooses one for Nile and Marie, and keeps the rest.

Mike’s squad is well represented, and there are a fair few sketches of the 104th during their time at the old HQ, and in the cabin in the mountains where they’d hidden from the MPs, Hange’s squad and Levi’s together. The one of Sasha and Connie peeling potatoes together makes Levi smile. Hange is able to identify some of the older pictures from before Levi’s time in the service, and Shardis adds some names to the rest. One or two they fear will go unidentified.

The pictures of people Levi knew well, he delivers himself, including those of all the members of his old squad. There are several sketches of Petra to go to her father, three of Oluo for his parents and siblings, two each of Eld and Gunter. Although the relatives’ words are different each time - most grateful, some grudging in their thanks, one or two outright angry when they remember the rumours of how the Captain failed to save the Commander - their faces, as the friends and relatives look at the pictures of loved ones they never thought to see again, all share the same expression: a softening, sorrow and joy mingled, a kind of awe at the recognition of something undying. It’s a connection that ties the living to the dead, and it shines in all their faces as Moblit’s drawings call their loved ones back to life in their memories: the glowing brightness of their reflected light.

As he turns away and leaves the bereaved to their memories, Levi knows that the same light will shine in his own face, when, in the long years to come, he allows himself to look from time to time at the pictures of Erwin - Erwin, who will be alive to him as long as he himself lives - and who he misses more than he has words to express - and who he loved, and loves, and will always love.


End file.
